


Stranger than us

by TheSingerThatYouWanted (orphan_account)



Category: Nathan Barley (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 19:26:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3085406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/TheSingerThatYouWanted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan really didn't want to be at this party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stranger than us

**Author's Note:**

> I genuinely don't know what came over me. This is quite probably the sweetest thing I've ever written. Read on at your own risk.

“I’m not going,” said Dan flatly, for at least the tenth time. The piece of paper in his hand was crumpled in a loose ball, as though that would make it easier to ignore. Jones groaned and walked after him as he made his way to the kitchen.  
“Oh, come on! Please? I know you hate them, but just listen-”  
Dan rounded a corner and tried to close the door, but Jones was undeterred. He pushed through, still talking, even as Dan tried to make it fade into background noise.  
“-might be able to get me a proper DJ gig, like I’ve always wanted.”  
A hand grabbed Dan’s wrist and he found himself being spun around to face his flatmate. Jones’ face was open, practically pleading with him. The plastic trinkets around his neck clinked forlornly together.  
“Please, Dan.”  
Dan had already given in. he’d never been able to refuse Jones anything, not when he’d stuck by him for so long. Nonetheless, he tried to play it off. Smoothing the piece of paper out as best he could on the table, he stared at it for a few seconds before he spoke.  
“Let’s say for a moment that I do go. Who says you’re coming?”  
Jones shot him a cheeky grin, blue eyes sparkling with life and mischief. His constant energy seemed to light him up from the inside.  
“You do. I’m not staying in by myself at New Years, and you’re not going to a party without company. Win-win, right?”  
Biting the inside of his lip to hide a smile, Dan nodded.  
“It’s a compelling argument. Alright. But no getting too pissed, I’m not carrying you home.”  
Jones practically shone. He seemed to come alive with excitement, and for a split second he moved towards Dan before jerking abruptly away.  
“Brilliant! Cheers, Dan, I appreciate it.”  
He vanished from the room in a swirl of excitement and colour, leaving Dan slightly bemused and alone in their tiny kitchen. He shook his head to clear it, and after a moment’s hesitation began to make himself a cup of coffee, breathing in the lingering scent of Jones’ aftershave and trying to stop the fond smile that was creeping over his face.  


***

They could hear the music from almost three streets away. Dan shivered, tugging his jacket tighter around his shoulders against the chill of the air. Jones, strangely, seemed not to be bothered by the cold despite the fact that he was wearing a sleeveless t-shirt and ripped black skinny jeans. He was beaming, and had spent most of the walk bouncing along the empty streets and talking about nonsense. Dan didn’t need to reply to half of it- he just listened, smiling at his friend’s stupid jokes and watching him when he thought Jones couldn’t see him. The younger man was just so alive. Dan hated parties, but for a while, seeing Jones so utterly in his element, he’d managed to ignore the feeling of dread and isolation that, for him, always accompanied large crowds of people. Now, at the first sound of music, he could feel it building again. He stopped abruptly. Jones spun to look at him, excitement turning to concern.  
“You alright?” he asked, moving closer and putting a hand on Dan’s arm.  
“I- do we have to go?” asked Dan, looking between his friend and the source of the music, the open door to the club down the next street. Jones gave him those puppy-dog eyes again.  
“Please, Dan? I’ll not let the Idiots get you, I promise.”  
This last bit was accompanied with a sharp grin and a gentle tug at his arm. Sighing, Dan fell into step beside him.  
“C’mon. I’ll buy you a drink,” said Jones, still clinging to Dan’s arm. It occurred to him, belatedly, that he should shake him away, but for some reason he let the contact continue. Mostly he was just glad that Claire couldn’t see them.  
He should have known that it wasn't going to last. Almost as soon as they got inside Jones was whirled away, caught up in the crowd. Dan simply sighed, resigned to an evening of loneliness, and made his way to the bar. He sat down heavily on a plastic bar stool and scanned the list of drinks on a slightly sticky piece of paper in front of him. They all sounded sickly, and had names that would be censored on most major TV channels. After a while he stopped looking at the names and started looking at the ingredients.  
"Yeah, can I have a-"  
For a moment he hesitated, wondering if maybe he should ring in the new year without being blackout drunk for once. Then he heard a snatch of Jones' laughter float across the room, mixed with the high-pitched giggling of some stranger, and made up his mind.  
"Vodka."

***

Two drinks later- he'd at least had the sense to pace himself, and was still at the stage of feeling pleasantly warm rather than outright drunk- it was almost time for the bells. The music had started to fade out, but everyone was growing steadily louder, a combination of excitement and alcohol making people raise their voices even more. Dan sighed heavily, looking down at his empty glass. Throughout the night he’d tried to keep track of Jones, following his movements in glimpses of colour, in a sudden draught bringing traces of aftershave with it, in the laughter he could hear even beneath all the other noise in the room. He’d lost track completely about five minutes previously. Knowing Jones- or, more accurately, knowing how everyone else saw Jones- there was every chance he was getting blown in an alleyway by some Idiot he’d never see again. For some reason that thought made Dan’s stomach twist unpleasantly. Over in one corner of the club people were starting to chant, the countdown getting louder as it spread throughout the crowd. Thirty seconds to go. Dan lifted a hand to get the barman’s attention, but before he could order another drink he felt a hand on his arm. He spun around to see Jones standing there, an odd expression on his face. He looked determined, and a little frightened. Dan stood up, stumbling slightly in his hurry, and Jones caught his arm.  
“What’s wrong?” he asked- or, more accurately, tried to ask. The words got caught in his throat. For a split second the look in his friend’s eyes made Dan’s heart stop, but then Jones was kissing him and he forgot how to think. His hands flailed about for a moment before settling on Jones’ bony hips, and his eyes fluttered shut when the younger man didn’t pull away.  
Cheers erupted from the far corner of the bar as the countdown reached zero, but Dan didn’t care. All that he was really aware of was Jones, the way he tasted of lip gloss and sticky cocktails, the feeling of him sliding his hands up to the back of Dan’s head, and of just how long Dan had wanted this. After several long seconds they broke apart. Jones was breathing heavily and grinning up at him, but Dan still couldn’t think straight.  
“Happy new year,” Jones said quietly, looping his arms around Dan’s neck. Eventually his brain sparked back into gear long enough for him to remember how to speak, so he said the first thing that came to mind.  
“Aren’t you supposed to kiss a stranger on new year’s?”  
Jones laughed, pulling Dan closer and kissing the corner of his mouth.  
“Yeah, and who’s stranger than us?”  
A surge of affection ran through him and he put his hands on Jones’ back, tugging him into an embrace and leaning down to kiss him again. His lips moved slowly, lazily, as they grew used to the feeling of each other. On the rare occasions Dan had allowed himself to think about being with Jones, their first kiss had been nothing like this. He’d always pictured it as messy, desperate, both men struggling for control. The reality was different. Jones’ kisses were relaxed, unhurried, more like he was fulfilling a promise made long ago. Like this was where he belonged.  
Dan swiped the tip of his tongue gently across Jones’ lower lip and the shorter man moaned lightly, practically melting against him. He broke away reluctantly, and Dan rested their foreheads together. Jones’ eyes were wide and dark and sparkling as he laughed, a little shakily through his ragged breaths. His cheeks were flushed, his lower lip slightly reddened, and Dan knew he was probably in much the same condition. He didn’t care.  
Off to his left something flashed and he knew without even looking that it was Nathan, taking photos for Trashbat. After all, if Ashcroft was kissing boys now then surely the world deserved to know. Jones seemed to guess what he was thinking and smiled, tangling his fingers in Dan’s hair and gazing at him with more love than Dan had ever seen. He had never imagined someone could look at him that way.  
“Let them,” he whispered, lips brushing Dan’s with every word. “I don’t care. I’ve wanted this for years.”  
He closed the gap, as though perhaps that night could make up for the years they’d spent without this. The music had started up again, the loud dance music replaced with something slower. Dan actually recognised the song, which was practically a miracle in itself. Then again, he was kissing Jones, so anything seemed likely now. Six impossible things before breakfast, and all that. It was an old song- he doubted that there would be many people in the room who knew it, but by this point they were all pairing up and were ready to dance to just about anything. Jones rested his head against Dan’s shoulder and slowly they began to sway together, moving in time to the music. Sad yet strangely hopeful, the song rang out into the night. A promise of a better year to come.  
“We could be heroes,” he whispered into Jones’ ear, the lyrics taken from their tune and becoming his own promise. “Just for one day.”  
The younger man smiled, nuzzling in against Dan’s neck.  
“Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah, we can.”

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously, these characters still aren't mine, and neither is David Bowie. Sadly. Happy new year, everyone!


End file.
